Wolf’s eyes flooded as he stepped down from his bed. When his bare feet met the carpet, his dad yanked him by the back of his pyjama collar, causing him to trip and fall on his backside.
“Get up, you little piece of shit,” he yelled.
Wolf got up quickly, pulling on the bottom hem of his pyjama top as his father’s plump, open hand smacked him hard across the face, hurling his body to the floor. Stunned, Wolf sat on the carpet with his shoulders hunched, cupping his burning cheek.
“I know you took the saddle,” his dad said, his lips tight. “That’s my room, and I don’t want you or anyone else in there. I know you got in through the back, and I don’t want you going in there ever again,” he warned. “Now, get out of my sight,” he finished, motioning towards the box.
Wolf got up and stepped inside the chest, closing the lid softly above him as he listened to his father leave the room, slamming the door behind him.
Polly came inside the box and wrapped her arms around Wolf as he wept. After almost an hour passed, she gently touched his cheek with her hand. “He’s asleep. It’s okay to go to bed now,” she whispered.
Wolf crawled over the edge of the box and scrambled up to his bed, a brief jolt of anger surging through his body as he looked at his brother’s empty bed, feeling angry that his brother was always gone at a friend’s house. Once in his bunk, Polly laid next to him and draped her arm over his chest as Wolf cried himself to sleep.
The next morning, before sunrise, Wolf woke and decided to free Biscuit. Still in his pyjamas, he crept into the moonlit yard and untied the horse from the fence. “I’ll miss you, boy,” he said sadly. He opened the gate and let Biscuit loose in the paddock next to the house. The horse walked towards the distant, dark hills, glancing back one time before continuing onwards, blending into the shadowy background before finally disappearing.
So tonight, when Polly came to him and told him they were going to ride Biscuit the next day, the memories of his father’s punishment flooded his mind. “Polly, you know I let Biscuit go a long time ago, so knock it off,” he told her. “We aren’t going riding.”
“I’m serious. Biscuit’s back in the yard and saddled up. Look out the window if you don’t believe me. He’s at the fence.”
They both got out of bed and went to the window. Wolf pulled aside the mustard- coloured curtains and saw the black shadow of a saddle sitting on the railed fence.
“I told you. There’s Biscuit…with a saddle,” Polly said confidently.
“I don’t know why he came back, and I didn’t put that saddle on him. And, it’s not even the same saddle. See, that one has a horn sticking up in the front,” Wolf said, puzzled.
“Hum. Well, when your dad got home tonight, he did take something out of the boot, but I couldn’t see what it was. Maybe he got you a saddle of your own,” Polly said.
“Well, I know I’ve never seen that one before. Come on, let’s check it out.”
“Slow down, cowboy. We can see it in the morning. Let’s not wake him.”
“Yeah, you’re right. Gosh, Polly, do you reckon he would have bought me a saddle, especially after he got so mad at me for using the one in the shed? Why would he do something like that for me?”
“Maybe it’s like what your mum told you. He feels guilty so he tries to be extra nice,” she said, linking her skinny fingers with his. “Anyway, let’s get some sleep. We’re going riding tomorrow,” she said, squeezing his hand gently.
The next morning, shards of sunlight cut their way through the openings in Wolf’s curtains and hit him in the eyes, waking him. Polly was already awake, her bright green, almond-shaped eyes focused on his bedroom door.
“Good morning, ghost,” Wolf said.
Polly dangled her legs over the edge of the bunk bed as she stretched her translucent arms up towards the ceiling. She was luminous, and through the glistening, powdery haze that dusted the surface of her body, Wolf could see shadowy images of her familiar bone-coloured dress, her cappuccino skin, and her brown hair just touching her shoulders.
“Ready to go riding?” she said, staring at him with eyes like polished jade.
“Yep. And, I was thinking, let’s pretend we are riding in the American West and exploring like on the show Daniel Boone. I’ll be Boone, and you can be my daughter, Jemima,” he said with a lopsided smile.
“Funny. Why did you pick me to be your daughter?” Polly asked.
“I don’t know. Just seemed right, I guess.”
Polly smiled. “Ikuzo. It means let’s go.”
“I know what it means, ghost. I know a lot of Japanese words.”
Wolf put on tan corduroy pants and a faded yellow t-shirt, both hand-me-downs from Orville, and went to the kitchen with Polly following close behind. They walked right past his mum who was sitting at the breakfast bar reading a magazine and drinking a cup of ginger tea.
“Good morning, Wolf,” she said.
“Hi, Mum” he replied with a weak wave.
“Good morning, Lizzie,” Polly said, brushing her hand over his mum’s shoulder-length, black hair.
Polly had done this to Wolf's mum before, and every time, his mum would put her hand in the exact place that the ghost had touched her. But, instead of believing that something extraordinary was going on, his mother would ignore the sensation and act as though nothing had happened.
“I’m gonna play in the yard,” Wolf told his mum.
“What about breakfast?”
“Can I just have lunch? I’m not hungry right now.”
“Okay, then come back inside by noon.”
He nodded and left through the kitchen door.
As Wolf walked towards Biscuit who was tied at the fence, he saw a line of ants marching in a row behind Aaron. He had to jump over them, being careful not to step on any, and by the time Wolf arrived at the fence, Polly was already floating next to Biscuit, her fingers woven into his light sand-coloured mane as she nuzzled his cheek.
Wolf knew that if anyone else looked at Biscuit, they would have only seen a fence made from three levels of white painted beams with a brown, western-style saddle balanced on the top rail. But, when Wolf looked at the fence, he saw his horse Biscuit, saddled up, bobbing his head and flaring his nostrils.
“This is a different saddle for sure,” Wolf said, caressing the leather, his fingertips feeling small dents and scrapes. “And look! There is a ball in the front for me to hold on to, and stirrups. Oh boy, and we have reins. We definitely won’t fall off as much,” he said happily.
Wolf could see Polly was elated, too. In fact, Wolf had to turn away because she glowed like white fire, shining so bright that he feared his eyes would melt. After several seconds, Polly got herself under control, appearing again like the faded image of a Japanese girl.
“Did my dad really do this? It’s not my birthday, or Christmas, or anything.”
“Who else would have done it? Of course, your father did this,” she replied.
“Why?”
“Because, Wolf, he tries to show you he cares in his own way.”
“He doesn’t usually do a very good job.”
“No, he doesn’t. It’s his drinking that’s the problem. If he didn’t drink, he wouldn’t have to feel so guilty all the time.”
“Maybe,” Wolf sighed, “but I don’t think he actually likes me. Remember what Orville said? That my dad wished I was a girl?”
“Yes, I remember,” she said. “But he doesn’t hurt you because you were a boy and not a girl.”
“Why then? Why does he hurt me…and Mum? And, why doesn’t he ever do anything bad to Orville?”
“I’m not sure why he doesn’t treat your brother the same. Orville’s lucky, I guess. Anyway, your dad acts mean when he drinks, but it’s not because you were a boy. It’s a symptom of a larger problem.”
“What? Ghost, sometimes you make no sense,” he stated, shaking his head.
“Wolf, listen. Let me try to explain what I mean.” Polly was quiet f
or a few seconds. “Okay,” she said, “let’s say you’re at school and Miss writes a word on the board and you don’t know what it is. Is it because you are stupid?”
“No way! I’m not stupid,” he protested.
“Right, you’re not stupid, so we can say that’s not the reason, right?”
“Right.”
“Okay. So, if you’re not stupid, there must be another reason why you don’t know the word, right?”
“Yep…because I’m not stupid,” he mumbled.
“I know, I know. That’s not the point, Wolf. So, if you don’t know a word that Miss writes on the board, and you’re not stupid, than what might be some other reasons you don’t know the word?”
“Um, maybe it’s a new word that I’ve never even seen before.”
“That’s another possibility. What else?”
“Maybe it’s a really big word and I need extra time to figure it out.”
“Another good answer. What else?” she asked.
“Maybe it’s in a foreign language, like Eskimo.”
“Um, I never thought of that and yes, that could be. Do you see what I’m trying to say? The problem is that you don’t know a word, but it’s not because you are stupid, so we can say that’s not the reason you don’t know it. Another reason might be because the word is in a foreign language, like Eskimo, but that’s unlikely because Miss only writes words in English,” she giggled. “So, it’s possible that the reason you don’t know the word is because you haven’t seen it before, or maybe you just need a little more time to sound it out.” Polly paused, then said, “Anyway, your dad’s problem is that he is mean and violent when he drinks, and he loses control. But the reason he acts like that isn’t because you were born a boy and not a girl. That’s the surface. Deep down, below the surface, there is another reason. Am I making any sense?”
“Kind of,” he said, crinkling his nose.
“I think that your father has been angry for a long time, long before you came into this life. Your mum said that your dad’s father was even meaner than him, so maybe that rubbed off and your dad isn’t strong enough to do the right thing. It’s no excuse, though. He should act like a man and have self-control.”
“Yes, he should,” Wolf agreed. “Junsaku has self-control.”
“He does. My father once told me that you will not be punished for your anger, but you will be punished by your anger. I think your father is always punishing himself, and when he’s not drinking, he tries to be super nice because he feels so guilty. The most important thing for you is to takeaway something good from this experience. Can you think of anything you’re learning?”
Wolf was silent for a few minutes and then said, “I don’t want to be like him when I grow up.”
“Yes. And what else?
“I can be nice to people and not hurt them, even when I am really strong.”
“That’s good! Just remember, Wolf, you can only control yourself and your response to the things that happen in your life, so make yourself strong, inside and out,” she said, her soft, pink lips curving up at the corners.
Wolf inhaled deeply. “How come you’re so smart, Polly? You sound like you’re thousands of years old sometimes,” Wolf said. “Anyway, we’d better get going if we’re going to be back in time for lunch.”
Polly didn’t respond and just stood with her hands clasped in front of her waist, a shy smile on her lips.
Wolf put his right foot in the stirrup, his hands on the horn, and shot his left leg over Biscuit’s back before sitting down in the saddle. He grabbed Polly by her hand and pulled her weightless body up behind him, barely feeling her as she pressed against his back, her hands holding onto both sides of his waist.
He gently prodded Biscuit’s belly with his heels and said, “Go, boy,” and the horse ambled forward.
“Let’s run,” Polly told Wolf.
Wolf pressed his heels into Biscuit’s sides, and the Palomino ran across the grassy paddock until he reached the edge of a beautiful valley, its sloping terrain crowded with dense, pine trees, and at the base of the valley, between the hills, was a wide river. Wolf pressed his heels into Biscuit’s sides and the horse began walking cautiously down the zig-zag trail that would take the children to the river.
Once they reached the riverbank, Wolf and Polly dismounted Biscuit and set him free to graze. They walked along the water’s edge, watching as the river bubbled and churned, and then found a calm, tranquil pool surrounded on three sides by massive boulders, and Wolf took off his shoes, rolled up his pants, and stepped into the cold water. Wolf cupped his hands and tried to grab one of the many elongated, gold-colored fish that swam close to his legs. He put his hands in the water, holding them still, poised for one of the fish to swim between his palms, but no matter how many times he’d clamp his hands together, they’d dart away too quickly for him to catch.
Polly sat watching Wolf, her body oscillating like steam from a hot cup of tea, and when Wolf flicked water in her direction, it passed right through her, splashing the rocks behind her. She laughed and picked up a small pebble and threw it at him, striking him in the chest. Wolf picked up a handful of mud and tossed it in her direction, and the wet dirt shot through her body, leaving no marks on her off-white dress.
Biscuit was a short distance away eating grass, disinterested in the children’s play when suddenly something spooked him and the ears on the top of his head perked up. He stood frozen in place, his tail flapping sporadically, as Wolf and Polly looked all around, trying to see what had alarmed him.
They finally saw what spooked the horse. On top of a hill, between thick trees on the same side of the river as them, they saw two Indians on horseback staring directly at them. Wolf waved, and a moment later, one of the Indians waved back.
“Should we go up there?”
“Hmmm, I’m not sure,” Wolf hesitated, his thick eyebrows pulled together. “I don’t know if they are nice or not.” As the Indians continued to stare, motionless, Wolf’s palms became sweaty. “I think we should just leave.” Wolf grabbed Biscuit’s reins and hoisted himself onto the saddle, pulling Polly up behind him.
After turning Biscuit towards home, six Indian men on horseback galloped straight at them, stopping to block their path. The Indians were bare-chested and wearing camel- coloured rawhide pants and moccasins, and around their heads were colourful headbands of bright red, blue, purple, yellow and green feathers.
“Polly,” Wolf whispered, “don’t say anything. I’ll do the talking, okay?”
She clenched Wolf’s waist tightly and replied, “You got it, Daniel Boone.”
“G’day,” Wolf said.
The Indians didn’t reply and just stared.
“We don’t want any trouble. We’ll be on our way,” Wolf said, feigning confidence.
“This is our land,” said one of the Indians in an unfamiliar language that somehow the children understood.
“Uh, sure, no worries, mate. You can have it. We were just leaving,” Wolf replied.
“Do not go. You are welcome here,” said a tall, lean Indian who was wearing a headdress made of purple and red feathers.
Polly relaxed her grip and peeked around the side of Wolf’s head.
“Come to our village. You will be our guest,” said another Indian, this one with green and red feathers sprouting from his headband.
Wolf leaned his head back. “What do you think, Polly?” he mumbled.
“Yes, let’s go!”
“Who are you talking too?” asked one of the Indians.
“My friend, Polly.”
“You speak to the air,” he mocked, narrowing his eyes.
“No, she’s there. You just can’t see her.”
“No, you speak to the air. You are sick in mind,” he laughed arrogantly, glancing at the others.
“Don’t say that about me. Forget it. We don’t want to come to your stupid village anyway,” Wolf sneered, his long face growing red with anger.
Polly
squeezed Wolf’s waist and said, “Wolf, do you see that Indian coming forward?”
Wolf noticed an older Indian on horseback coming from the back of the group. He had a tanned face indented with deep wrinkles, and long, ashen hair that hung past his shoulders. He wore a headband loaded with purple, green, blue, yellow and red feathers that shot up towards the sky, and as he came forward, the other Indians moved their horses out of the way, creating a path for him.
The older Indian man stopped at the front of the others and put his finger to his lips, gesturing for all to be quiet. “You are full of spirit, young warrior,” he said to Wolf, his voice a low rumble. “I see your friend. She sits behind you.” The Indian looked at Polly and said, “Your eyes are a beautiful green, like the forest leaves wet from the rain. You are both welcome with my people. Come, let us show you our village. I promise you, as Chief, you will have our respect. And, young boy, I have a name for you,” he said, pointing at Wolf. “I will call you Ghost Talker.”
“My name is Wolf.”
“Yes,” he said understandingly, “but, I give you name out of respect for your gift of sight,” he answered, his smile causing deep lines to form on his tanned, leathery cheeks.
“Okay, just as long as no one calls me crazy,” Wolf replied.
Polly could sense Wolf’s insecurity and gripped his waist as she said, “I thought you were going to tell him your name was Daniel Boone? Anyway, no worries, Ghost Talker.”
“Shut up, stupid ghost, or I’ll throw you off this horse,” he muttered from the corner of his mouth.
“You’d never hurt me,” she whispered softly in his ear, causing him to shudder.
The Indians and Wolf turned their horses and began to follow the chief along the path to the village. When the village came into view, Wolf could see tall pine trees encircling the camp, creating a natural fence, and through the tree trunks he could see cone-shaped, buffalo skin tipis jutting up from the ground.
When they entered the village, boys, girls and women of various ages approached them, some with babies nestled at their chests and all with bright smiles on their darkly tanned faces. Still on horseback, Wolf and Polly followed the riders to the center of the village where the chief lifted his hand and silenced the crowd. “My people, we have honoured guests today. The young boy has the gift of sight, and he is called Ghost Talker, and with him is his friend, Whispering Smoke. Some of you may not see her, but she sits behind the boy.”
She Named Me Wolf Page 9